


Let's (Not) Talk This Through

by Lohrendrell



Series: Snippets of what would be "The Deuteragonist" [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And close to graduation, Both are eighteen already, Don’t repost elsewhere please, Dry Humping, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, public sex kink, seniors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24854770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohrendrell/pseuds/Lohrendrell
Summary: “Jaskier. We can’t have sex in here.”“No, I know.” Jaskier took one step closer, pressing his body against Geralt’s, who let himself be pinned against the wall. “But we could just…” He rolled his hips suggestively. “Enjoy ourselves a little bit.”-Geralt and Jaskier dry hump in the locker room after Geralt's game. That's it. That's the plot.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Snippets of what would be "The Deuteragonist" [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1905406
Comments: 19
Kudos: 331





	Let's (Not) Talk This Through

**Author's Note:**

> As my first contribution to this lovely fandom, I bring you _dry hump_ and _public sex kink_. Yeah.
> 
> As always, thanks for my dear bff and beta A., who is always enduring my gushing for new fandoms. <3
> 
> Oh, and I want to point out [Aggie's](https://www.instagram.com/p/CBOo91LqsgL/) [amazing](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_NmpRgIDWn/) [artwork](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_YBfR7IBRh/) [for her own](https://www.instagram.com/p/B_5WCelK_bJ/) [High School AU](https://www.instagram.com/p/CAiastrK3-Q/), which works SO MUCH with this one! Please go check her artwork [[here]](https://www.instagram.com/iskisaggie/) and give her lots of nice praise, she deserves it!

Jaskier was waiting for him in the locker room after the game, acoustic guitar hanging by its suspenders on his shoulder and something Geralt could swear was a crown of flowers in his hands.

“Congratulations, boys!” Jaskier said, all enthusiasm and unspent energy, addressing all the team, though he only looked at Geralt, who came to a stop right in front of him. “I knew you would make it! And what a game that was, oh, Goddess, what magnificent team—”

“Save it, buttercup,” said Lambert, bumping Geralt on the shoulder as he passed by them. “Don’t try to kiss our asses when you weren’t even watching us in the first place.”

Jaskier made an indignant sound, eyes widening and mouth opening in a perfect ‘O’. “Of course I was! How could you accuse me of such a thing?”

“Didn’t see you anywhere in the bleachers.”

“Of course I wouldn’t be at the bleachers! What do you take me for, a peasant? I’m a VIP—”

“Says who?” said a chuckling Eskel.

“—and as the Very Important Person that I am, you know I am, Eskel, don’t lie to yourself, I found myself a Very Important Seat closer to you all, beautiful players, thank you very much. And what a view that was, let me say, I could watch up close all the boys’ bums in their tight—”

“Didn’t see you there either,” Lambert cut him off. “Coën?”

“No,” said Coën, “I think I would see him if he were that close.”

“Admit it, buttercup, you weren’t watching us. You’ve just broken your perfect attendance score. And on our Very Important Game, no less.”

Jaskier made a face—that face he always did when he was deeply fucking annoyed, but adamant to not get riled up. He was failing on that task, as he did most of the times the guys started on him. They learned pretty fast how sensitive Jaskier could be with accusations of not being the perfect boyfriend he aimed to be and thought it was hilarious to rile him up; Geralt, for his part, thought it was just exhausting.

Jaskier appealed to that other face of his, turning to Geralt: big eyes, brows arched, lips trembling slightly—that stupid face of his that Geralt learned, half from experience and half from observation, that was pretty fucking fake.

“Geralt, tell them I was watching your game the entire time!”

Geralt sighed. Fake as it was, it always. Fucking. Worked. “He was all the way across to Vesemir’s bench, I saw him.”

Jaskier smiled at him, all teeth and vicious pride. “See?”

“Liar. You’re just protecting your man,” said Lambert, who laughed when Jaskier gave him the finger. Geralt pulled Jaskier by the elbow, guiding him toward his own locker and away from the senseless teasing.

“I was there, you know,” Jaskier said, quietly, sitting at the bench while Geralt stripped out of his protective gear.

“I know. I saw you. Everyone did.” He didn’t lie. He had seen Jaskier sneaking past the coaches and other staff members and choosing the exact spot by the side of the field any normal and sensible person would deem too close and too dangerous to get comfortable. He had to ask the members of the other team to be careful because there was an idiot in the field, but didn’t allow anyone to remove Jaskier from there, and was teased for it until the very moment the game started.

“Good.” Jaskier gave him an almost shy smile, and Geralt felt his lips curving up. 

Jaskier wasn’t the most enthusiastic fan of american football, but Geralt knew it was important for him to watch every single one of Geralt’s games. He didn’t know why, but it had been so ever since they started being friends, and even more now, that they had officially become a thing. He knew Jaskier appreciated it when Geralt noticed him, so Geralt usually chose to humour him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a couple of scouts today,” said Jaskier.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you see it? The bald guy that kept taking notes and asking around for your names? And the other one? Didn’t any of you see them?”

The talk attracted the other team members, who came closer, in various stages of undressing, to listen to him. Everyone shook their heads in a collective ‘no’.

“Well, one was a bald old guy with ugly glasses.” Jaskier placed the flower crown in his own head—a relief for Geralt, who was convinced Jaskier was just waiting for the perfect opportunity to embarrass him in front of the guys. “The other one was also old, and weird, and I’m pretty sure he is actually a vampire. I tried to see if they wore any university badge or symbol somewhere, but I guess they wouldn’t, would they? Anyway, baldie had a notebook and he kept taking notes. Vampy kept asking around, I’m pretty sure about your names and the other team’s too. They kept discussing quietly to each other, but I couldn’t hear what. And they left as soon as the game ended.”

“Sounds like scouts to me,” Eskel said.

“Fucking hell, I was the MVP today,” said Lambert, “I want my scholarship.”

“ _Geralt_ was the MVP,” promptly said Jaskier. He turned and touched Geralt’s wrist. “And I’m pretty sure I heard them say your name.”

“No way. First you say you couldn’t hear their talk and now you heard your man’s name? Fuck off, buttercup. You don’t get to play favourites here.”

Jaskier’s only answer was to show him the tongue. Lambert tried to slap him with a towel, which Geralt intercepted. Lambert cackled harder, muttering something about how Geralt turned into a white knight recently and making the other guys laugh as he walked into one of the shower stalls.

Geralt made to get up and go to the showers, but Jaskier’s grasp on his wrist stopped him.

“I was serious,” Jaskier said, quietly, only for Geralt to hear. “I tried getting closer when I heard your name, but I think they noticed me and moved away.” Geralt eyed the flower crown, understanding finally why Jaskier kept moving around by the side of the field in the middle of the game, collecting random flowers until he sat down again. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Geralt, especially not about this.”

“I know.” Geralt’s palm found Jaskier’s cheek. He didn’t pull away when Jaskier leaned in and their lips met. Geralt vaguely heard the now all too common catcalls and whistles, but paid them no mind. It wasn’t like they were the only ones on the receiving end of that kind of teasing—and word had it that Coën had just gotten a new girlfriend, they just had yet to find out who she was and catch him with her.

The teasing died down eventually, the boys focusing on their showers and on getting into fresh clothes. “I need to go shower,” Geralt said in Jaskier's mouth, upon their fifth or sixth kiss.

“Don’t go yet,” Jaskier murmured in his mouth, one hand still clutching Geralt’s wrist while the other caressed Geralt’s arm up and down. “Let me show you the pictures I took.”

He took out his phone and showed Geralt the pictures. Most of it was of the guys’ butts.

“What?” Jaskier asked, with a mocking air of indignance.

“Slut.”

Jaskier laughed. “True, but…” He patted Geralt’s knee. “Those days are long past, my love.”

“Hm.”

“I like this one of Eskel. Hey, Eskel, look at this photo I took of you,” he called, finishing in a singsong, “It’s not your butt.”

Geralt made to get up again while Eskel, now clean and dressed, eyed the photograph. “It’s good.”

Jaskier stopped Geralt again with a hand on his thigh. “Wait, wait,” he told Geralt. To Eskel, he said, “I’m sending you the picture. I expect to see it posted, Eskel, and with a dedicatory for me.”

“Geralt, Eskel, buttercup,” Lambert called, emerging from one of the showers, fully dressed. “Pizza. To celebrate. Y’all in?”

“I’m starving,” said Eskel.

“Hm.”

“That would be marvelous,” Jaskied said, preening on the fact the team was inviting him to come along (they usually weren’t very keen on invitin the team’s significant other to their parties, but, “I am, in fact, very cool,” Geralt could already hear Jaskier saying). Jaskier, however, still didn’t let Geralt up. Not until Lambert pointed out that Geralt still stank and couldn’t go with them that way, and Geralt had to nudge Jaskier’s hand away—twice—in order to get up.

“Who told you to keep snogging the princess while we got ready, anyway?” Lambert was saying as Geralt collected his shower utensils from his locker. He saw Lambert pausing, as if expecting Jaskier to complain at being called a princess—what innocent man his friend was. “Now you’re late and we’re not waiting for you.” Lambert went on. “Yeah, we’re not waiting for you,”

Geralt hummed, but Jaskier answered for them. “It’s alright. We’ll catch up with you guys.”

For all their disorganization and overall chaos, the team was very efficient when it came to scatter away for food. Scatter away they did, in less than five minutes, the amount of time necessary for Geralt to fetch a towel and a change of clothes from his bag, and for Jaskier to untangle the messy bum that became of Geralt’s hair.

Geralt was pretty sure Jaskier took his time with it, humming to himself while he worked his fingers through Geralt’s locks. Once everyone had left and they were alone, Jaskier tapped Geralt’s shoulder and made him turn around. “All done,” he said, and kissed Geralt again.

This kiss was hungrier, deeper and filthier than the previous ones, now that they were alone. Geralt was already expecting that, having suspected Jaskier had to have _something_ in his mind when he not so subtly prevented Geralt from getting into the shower. Of course it had to do with making out in forbidden-and-or-public places.

Geralt humoured him (not that it was a difficult endeavour; his cock was already responding to Jaskier’s touches). He threw the shampoo, soap and towel on the bench, next to Jaskier’s guitar, his arms circled Jaskier’s waist, holding him tightly against himself. Jaskier hummed in appreciation, his own arms coming around Geralt’s neck, one hand closing in a fist around Geralt’s locks. He felt Jaskier shivering slightly, the hair at his arms and at the back of his neck bristling as Geralt caressed up and down his back, in that all too known first stages of arousal.

Geralt broke the kiss before they went too far.

“Jaskier.”

“No.”

Jaskier leaned in again, and Geralt gave in for a couple more minutes.

“Jaskier.”

“Not listening.”

Another kiss.

When Jaskier moaned into his mouth, Geralt had to gather every last bit of strength in his body to break them apart again. “Jaskier,” he said again, trying not to sound too out of breath, eyeing Jaskier’s pink puffy mouth. His cock twitched.

Jaskier was smiling mischievously. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Geralt arched an eyebrow. He knew how much Jaskier was bold, but, “You can’t be that shameless,” Geralt said.

Jaskier was still smiling. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He leaned in for another kiss, but Geralt stopped him with a hand on his chest. “C’mon, Geralt, today’s a special day. You won the game! You are this close to getting drafted for a scholarship, I can feel that. School is over in less than a month. I just want us to… celebrate with something special.”

It dawned on him—Jaskier distracting him from getting into the showers, trying to prevent him from getting up. “You planned this.”

Jaskier made one of his other faces. The one where his lips curved downwards, when he tried to pretend he was not seeing or doing what he was obviously doing.

“Jaskier. We can’t have sex in here.”

“No, I know.” Jaskier took one step closer, pressing his body against Geralt’s, who let himself be pinned against the wall. “But we could just…” He rolled his hips suggestively. “Enjoy ourselves a little bit.”

Geralt tried to swallow down a moan, his cock fattening too fast and taking over the decision-making portion of his brain. The traitor.

“C’mon, Geralt. Tell me to stop and I will. You know I will. Unless…” Another roll of hips. “You’re enjoying yourself already?”

“You’re being improper.”

“Oh, am I now,” said Jaskier, brushing his hands across Geralt’s torso. His fingers caressed Geralt’s nipples teasingly, and Geralt closed his eyes, biting down a hiss from his lips.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier nipped seductively at his earlobe, whispering, “C’mon, Geralt. Let’s do something naughty. Something to remember before school is over forever.”

This was by far the most indecent thing Geralt had done—and he had been dating Jaskier for, what, three months now? (Geralt really should be starting to think of getting him a present of some kind; he was pretty sure counting the months meant something, and he knew Jaskier appreciated that kind of spoiling.) Not two weeks ago he had let Jaskier convince him to free his dick and Geralt received the most amazing blowjob of his life in a secluded corner of the school library. Before that, they jerked each other off under the bleachers of the basketball arena. Geralt was pretty sure Jaskier was grooming him for a straight out fuck-a-ton in somewhere very public, and Geralt honestly wanted to say he wasn’t seeing it coming.

He wanted to say he wasn’t _anticipating_ it.

Only to preserve his righteousness.

“Fuck you and your public sex kink, Jaskier.”

Jaskier chuckled softly. “It gives you life.” He punctuated every word with a hard thrust of his hips, humping Geralt’s hard-on with confidence, lips brushing against Geralt’s own in an almost open-mouthed kiss. “Feed you energy—aah—for the field, Mr. MVP.”

“You’re shameless.”

“And you’re hot.”

“Slut.”

“Nerd.”

“Fuck you.”

“Excellent idea! Fuck me, Geralt. Right here.”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Geralt kissed him, as filthy and wet and hard as he could. He enjoyed the way Jaskier melted in his arms, the way he pulled at his hair and rubbed their clothed cocks together. Jaskier had such a pretty, eager cock. Geralt wanted to take him in his mouth. He wanted to press him to the lockers and fuck him right there, hard and fast, and make Jaskier come all over the place, making a mess of everything. And then make him clean everything by himself, to teach him a lesson. Would Jaskier even learn anything from it?

They couldn’t, though. Geralt still had standards, as fragile as they were becoming under Jaskier’s boldness and creativity.

He resorted to one last string of decency—if one could even call it that—and grabbed Jaskier by his buttocks, lifting him up. Jaskier moaned appreciatively in his mouth, wrapping his legs around Geralt’s middle, and let Geralt take him to one of the shower stalls.

Jaskier didn’t bother closing the curtain as he adjusted their cocks inside their trousers, so as to allow for more friction, so Geralt had to pause and do it for them. Geralt pressed himself harder against his boyfriend, who was getting comfortable between Geralt’s body and the wall.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked him, voice hoarse in Jaskier’s mouth.

“To come.”

Geralt’s response was to hold him tighter, thrust harder. Jaskier moaned, and Geralt had to place a hand over his mouth to try and drown out the sound. “Shh.” Geralt’s cock was leaking furiously, throbbing with every thrust, he was so close.

“Can’t.” Jaskier was panting, voice muffled under Geralt’s palm.

“You can.” Geralt smirked at him. “Or I won’t let you come. Is that what you want?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and then closed. He shook his head, his next moans coming out much more subdued.

“Obedient little whore,” Geralt whispered in Jaskier’s ear. The response he got was a desperate, muffled moan, and Jaskier tightened the grip on Geralt’s hair even as he shuddered. 

Oh, he liked to be bossed around, didn’t he? Geralt had been suspecting that. Fuck, Jaskier’s parents and siblings would all be away this weekend. Geralt would have the whole weekend to boss his slut of a boyfriend around.

He told Jaskier as much, and Jaskier rolled his head, tightening the grip on Geralt’s hair and shoulders, thrusting against him with as much force as he could muster in that position.

Geralt met every thrust, trying to stay silent himself. It was difficult, it was so fucking difficult, fuck, this was delicious. This was the next best thing after having Jaskier on Jaskier’s bed, tight hole clenching around his cock, Jaskier riding him with all the enthusiasm in the world… Or maybe after having Jaskier in forbidden places, Jaskier’s soft mouth engulfing his cock and Geralt having to muffle his own moans, the risk of getting caught…

Jaskier’s orgasm was intense, Geralt could feel it in the way Jaskier trembled violently, could see it in the way Jaskier’s brows furrowed, eyes shut, mouth open wide under Geralt’s palm even as it didn’t muster a sound. He was gorgeous. He was gorgeous and exciting and shameless and he would be the death of him, Geralt knew.

Geralt followed him not a minute later, his legs giving out as his cock spurted the last of his orgasm. He let himself fall on his knees, exhausted. The shower was still wet, the floor drenched his socks and trousers up to the knee. Jaskier fell with him, but Geralt held him tight on his thighs, preventing his clothes from getting wet.

They kissed for who knew how long, their tongues wrestling lazily, their grips still tight around each other. It almost felt like letting go of each was too much of a hard task, and for a moment Geralt considered just staying there forever, damn the rest of the world. He didn’t need scholarships, he didn’t need the stress of trying to get to uni, he just needed Jaskier in his arms.

(He did need all of these things, of course, _he knew_. But still. It was nice to drift away for a moment.)

“I’m all sweaty now,” Geralt said eventually.

“Mhmm… Just how I like it.”

Geralt kissed him.

“Good that I didn’t let you here before, huh? You’d have to shower twice.”

“How long were you planning this?”

“Planning? No, there was no planning. There was a… vague fantasy… well, part of.”

“Hm. Don’t believe you.”

Jaskier laughed softly, taking the flower crown off his head and putting it on Geralt’s. Geralt knew it would get there at some point. At least it didn’t happen in front of everyone. “It’s the truth! I always imagined fucking you in your locker room after one of your games, but I didn’t think… well, I saw the opportunity and I took it. Call me an entrepreneur, if you must.”

“That has nothing to do with entrepreneurship. You’re not even making sense.”

“Well, call me that anyway. I’ll even wear a tie.”

Geralt snorted despite himself. He allowed a moment for his mind to imagine the scenario. “Hm.”

“Shouldn’t we be getting up?” said Jaskier after a while. “I’m sure the boys are partying without us, we’re already running late.”

“Hm.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Can you get me my stuff?” Geralt really didn’t want to get up. In the literal sense, at least. “I left it next to your guitar.”

“Sure. Of course… Uhm… Can you let me up, then, darling?”

“In a moment.”


End file.
